


Jealous is the Night When the Morning Comes

by illgiveyouallofme



Series: The Lighthouse Keepers [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: (only a little of each), Bottom!Flint, Exhibitionism, Idiots in Love, John Silver Realizes Things, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sparring, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21622969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illgiveyouallofme/pseuds/illgiveyouallofme
Summary: Hope is the thing with feathersThat perches in the soul,And sings the tune without the words,And never stops at all, ...I've heard it in the chillest land,And on the strangest sea;Yet, never, in extremity,It asked a crumb of me.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver, Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton, Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton/John Silver, Thomas Hamilton/John Silver
Series: The Lighthouse Keepers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515194
Comments: 7
Kudos: 85





	Jealous is the Night When the Morning Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Ultimately, this is a story about John Silver learning about love -- how to give it and how to accept it.
> 
> This is the final (plot-related) installment of The Lighthouse Keepers. When I planned this story, I had hoped to reach 10k words. Now, it's over 20k and for that, I'm sorry. (Except I'm not). Thank you all so, so much for taking this journey with me! 
> 
> Title from "Morning Comes" by Delta Rae  
> Summary from "Hope is the thing with feathers" by Emily Dickinson

For the second morning in a row, John woke up to the sunlight streaming on his face. This time, though, he wasn’t alone. 

James was leaned half-over him, his head laid on John’s thigh as he traced his fingers over his hipbones. When he noticed John was awake and looking at him, James grinned, looking for all the world like a lion cornering its prey. 

John was growing to appreciate that look. “Again?” he asked. 

James didn’t respond, instead using his mouth to pepper kisses along the line of John’s stomach, stopping every now and then to suck a bruise onto his already marked skin. Despite himself, John could feel himself growing hard once more. He shuddered as James ran his fingers lightly over his length before sucking the head of his cock into his mouth. 

“Jesus, you’re insatiable,” John said, then groaned as James took him deeper. Even as his hips lifted off the bed and his back arched, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Are you always like this? Maybe it’s a good thing you have two lovers now,” he said, before words left him completely. James, he was learning, was _very_ talented with his mouth. 

James chuckled around him, the vibration sending a shock through John and turning his spine to jelly. He whimpered when James pulled off him, only to groan again as he slid up John’s body. 

“Is that what we are now? Lovers?” James smiled, pressing a kiss to John’s lips. John could taste himself on James’s tongue. 

“Well, you’ve already made me come four times in one night. So I should think so,” he said, words breathier than he hoped. 

He’d always known that loving James (both Flint and McGraw) would consume him. It was only now, however, that he understood that James intended to consume more than just his heart and soul. He wanted his body too. And John was ready to sacrifice himself on the altar of James’s desire. 

James pulled off of John slightly, eyes liquid gold and boring into his own. “I have years to make up for, John,” he said, “I’m only just getting started with you.” 

A short while later, after they’d raised their count to an even six, James rolled over to face John again. His eyes were softer than John had ever seen them.

“I love you too, you know,” James whispered.

“Hmm?” John asked. He’d been on the verge of falling asleep, basking in the hazy sunlight that streamed through the open window. He’d always loved the smell of wet earth after a storm – it reminded him that he was no longer lost at sea. Literally or metaphorically.

James reached out and tugged John’s earlobe softly, a smile teasing the corner of his lips. All too quickly, his smile turned somber.

“Last night, what you said about Madi. I know what she means to you, John. And I want you to know that I heard what you were saying. I should have told you sooner. I love you.”

John was fully awake now. He stared at James, at this man he’d wanted for longer than he’d even admitted to himself. “I love you too,” he said. 

***

Eventually, as he knew they must, John and James made their way downstairs. Entering the kitchen, John saw Thomas in what he knew James considered his “natural habitat”: sitting at the desk in the study, books and papers strewn around the floor, ink stains smudged on his fingers. He didn’t look up right away, too enthralled in his own writing to hear them approach. 

James stepped over the papers drying on the floor to kiss Thomas hello. He barely looked up from his papers, but reached out a hand to squeeze James’s. John felt like an intruder – despite (perhaps because of) all he’d shared with James over the night, seeing the quiet intimacy between these two just felt like too much. He cursed himself silently when his crutch hit the doorframe, causing a loud _thunk._

At the sound, Thomas looked up, gaze sweeping over John’s body. John felt splayed open, revealed. Surely, Thomas knew what had happened last night. Surely he’d heard them – in their passion they’d made no effort to be quiet. And though he knew James would never have come into his room if doing so would’ve hurt Thomas, John couldn’t help look at the floor as guilt washed over him. He didn’t dare meet Thomas’s eyes. 

That is, until Thomas cleared his throat, and exclaimed, “Good lord James! What have you done to poor Mr. Silver? The man can barely walk!” 

John’s eyes flew to Thomas’s, a fierce blush reddening his cheeks. James let out a loud guffaw, a sound which John had certainly never heard him make before. He’d – he’d spent the entire night fucking this man’s lover ( _husband?_ ), and Thomas not only allowed it, but he could joke about it? Not for the first time, John marveled at Thomas’s self-assuredness. 

“Yes, darling, I gave him the fucking of his life last night. Now, is there any food? I’m positively famished.” Clearly James wasn’t affected by Thomas’s frankness. John figured he shouldn’t be either. 

“I can make biscuits,” he offered, quickly. He was not trying to escape Thomas’s gaze, which was still upon him. He was just hungry. That was all. 

“No need,” Thomas said, walking around John (surely he didn’t have to pass by _that_ closely, did he?) and into the kitchen. “Mrs. Ducat came by this morning to see how we made out in the storm. She brought us some sweet biscuits and jam because – and I’m quoting – ‘you poor dears, all alone up there with no women to care for you, how do you get on?’” He chuckled. 

“She did, of course, ask after you James,” he said. To John: “She has great affection for James, bless her. I didn’t have the heart that he was busy getting fucked by yet another man in this house. Luckily, she came by during one of your quieter interludes.” 

With that, Thomas grabbed a biscuit from the basket on the table, and returned back to the study. 

John looked at James, “He’s really all right with this?” he asked.

James chuckled. “It took me some getting used to, as well. But yes, he truly is.” 

As if to show John that he was serious, James reached out and traced his fingers over John’s lips, trailing them over the column of his throat and down his abdomen. A wanton moan escaped John as his body stirred to life once more. He simply couldn’t get enough of James. He pulled James in for a kiss, opening his lips immediately and sinking his tongue inside James’s mouth. James had had one of the Mrs. Ducat’s biscuits: he tasted like strawberries and sugar. John smiled, still pressed against James’s lips.

“I love you,” he said. Now that the words had been spoken, he couldn’t stop staying them. They flooded out of him, where before he had drowned in them. He and James were two chalices, each overflowing, spilling into one another, sharing from the same bottle of wine. 

***

The rest of the afternoon passed by lazily, for John anyway. James, limping only slightly from his ankle, which was bruised but showing no signs of inflammation, insisted on checking the outside of the lighthouse for additional damage caused by the storm. Thomas stayed at his desk in the study for hours, alternately writing furiously or staring out the window, deep in thought. John considered asking what he was writing about, but didn’t want to disturb him. He did enjoy watching him though; Thomas more animated while writing silently than most people were in the middle of a heated argument. He tapped his foot, shook his head, and muttered under his breath. Every now and then, he would run his fingers through his hair, mixing black streaks in with the faded gold.

John worked on settling into this house, which he was already beginning to think of as his. He busied himself in the kitchen, preparing a stew for dinner, before settling in the parlor with a book. From his spot on the settee, he could surreptitiously watch Thomas write while catching glances of James through the window.

He must have dozed off at some point, because he awoke to whispered voices at Thomas’s desk. 

“Will he stay?” one voice asked. 

“I don’t know,” said the other, “but I hope so.”

“As do I,” said the first.

“You do?” 

“Yes. You’re happy he’s here, and I like seeing you happy. We’ve all had more than our share of unhappiness in this life.” 

The second voice became muffled, as James nuzzled against Thomas’s chest. “Aye, that we have. But, do you think you could find happiness with him here too?”

“Darling, as long as you are happy, I will always be too. And, in the short time he’s been here, I’ve grown to enjoy John’s company too. You aren’t the only one who will be upset if he leaves.”

John felt warmth spreading through him, felt as though he was being filled by light. He could stay. He was wanted. His past wrongs forgiven, his past lives forgotten. He was _home._

He drifted back to sleep, lulled by the sounds of James and Thomas kissing not four feet from him. As the lure of sleep took hold, he had one last conscious thought: _I guess I’m not the jealous sort._

***

That night, after heading up to his room alone, John left the door open in invitation. They hadn’t discussed what James’s sleeping arrangements would be, and John hoped James would spend a second night with him. He wasn’t disappointed.

James knocked softly on the doorframe before entering the room, leaving the door slightly cracked behind him. John was bare-chested on the bed, reading in the dying candlelight. As James entered, he put the book aside.

“Of all the events that have transpired in the past forty-eight hours,” he said, looking up at James, “there’s one thing that I keep coming back to.”

“And what’s that?” James asked, as he unbuckled his belt and dropped it onto the floor. He slid onto the bed next to John, wearing only his shirt and trousers. His heat burned against John’s side. 

“It was something Thomas said this morning. He said that last night you were ‘busy getting fucked by’ another man.” John turned into James, hooking his leg over James’s hips and drawing him closer. His hands set to work loosening the buttons on James’s pants.

“Yes?” James asked.

“I’m dreadfully curious: did he mean it in the more general sense, or is that something you…?”

James chuckled, the sound more of a rumble in his chest. John tugged his shirt out of his trousers.

“If you’re asking if I like to be fucked, the way I fucked you last night, the answer is yes. I do.” 

Nothing could have gone to John’s head – or his cock – more quickly than James admitting that he enjoyed having someone inside him. John’s eyes dropped closed as images of the fearsome Captain Flint split open on his cock. It wasn’t an unfamiliar fantasy, but one that had never before seemed within reach. He nearly ripped James’s shirt in his haste to get it off. 

John pushed James’s pants down his hips, his eyes never leaving James’s. In the fading candlelight, they seemed more gold than green. James stretched out on his side, fully – gloriously – nude, his cock half-hard where it rested against his hip. He reached out traced the delicate shell of John’s ear with his fingers before winding them in John’s curls. The light touch sent a shudder through John.

“John,” he said softly, “are you asking if you can fuck me?”

John nodded. James smiled at him – a smile made up of entirely too many teeth. John shuddered again, strongly reminded of his first encounters with James. 

James leaned forward, pressing his chest (still clothed, too many clothes) into John’s. James kissed across his collarbone, nipping and sucking in a way that caused gooseflesh to break out along John’s arms. 

“For years, John,” he began, “for years I dreamed of having your cock inside me. Probably since I ‘accidentally’ saw it when we took the fucking warship. Maybe even since I had you pressed against the rocks at the Wrecks, before I knew how damn clever you are. So yes, I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you deep inside me. I want to come from just your cock alone. Now, are we going to get on with it or just lie here talking about it?”

James pulled John’s head to his for a kiss, immediately opening his mouth and plunging inside. John felt the warmth from earlier return, searing hot, and burn through his body. Every inch of him hummed with the heat, from the tips of his fingers down to the remainder of his toes. Even his hair seemed to crackle with electricity. To have a man such as James speak to him so, it was nearly too much for him to bear. 

“Roll over,” he gasped, pushing James onto his back. He reached for the oil on the bedside table next to him, used it to slick his fingers. He trailed them down James’s thighs, stopping here and there to trace a particular patch of freckles, often followed by his lips. He had admired these thighs from afar for too long, he thought, and damn if he wouldn’t show them the reverence they were due. Beneath him, James squirmed, trying to pull John closer to his center, where he needed him the most.

John moved slowly up James’s legs, pressing along the sensitive skin at the juncture of his thighs before brushing one finger over James’s puckered hole. The slight pressure sent James’s hips bucking off the bed, his cock fully hard now, flushed red and leaking. John leaned forward to lick the moisture off his cock head as he pushed his first finger in, right up to the second knuckle. 

“Fuck!” James gasped, canting his hips to take more of John’s fingers. John pulled his finger nearly out, before pushing back in again, further, using the motion to widen James. He twisted his finger, brushing over the bundle of nerves in James that would send his captain over the edge. 

“More! God!” James cried. John smiled, licking across James’s shaft and then engulfing him in his mouth as he pushed in a second finger. He worked James faster and harder until James was thrusting down onto his fingers, eyes shut tight as he took his pleasure. John let James’s cock fall from his mouth so he could watch. James truly was a sight to behold: the red hair and freckles standing out in stark relief on the white bedsheets, the muscles in his shoulders straining as he pushed against the headboard for leverage onto John’s hands. John admired it all, savored the moments he was not sure he’d ever have the privilege of seeing. _And what a privilege it was._

“John, please,” James said, voice wrecked from his desire. “I need you.”

That was all John needed to hear. He lined himself up against James’s entrance, and pushed in slowly. Once he was fully sheathed in James’s body, he stilled, allowing both of them some time to adjust. John had had sex a great many times in his life, but nothing, _nothing_ , compared to the feeling of being with James in this way. He felt whole, he felt like a king, he felt invincible. As pirates, they had become living legends – but that didn’t hold a candle to how he felt inside James. Here, he was immortal. 

As he felt James’s body relax around him, he rolled his hips experimentally. Encouraged by the soft groan that slipped from James’s lips, he did it again, and again. Finally, he felt James’s body relax around him and he drew his cock almost all the way out before snapping back in. He thrust in several more times, getting closer and closer to the edge with each push. He pulled away from James and leaned on his arms, determined not to miss a single expression that crossed James’s face. 

Then, just as John was about to break apart, his goddamn, fucking, piece-of-shit leg spasmed, sending a jolt of pain through John’s body. His back tensed as he involuntarily cried out.

“John?” James asked, attuned to the sudden change in him. “Are you all right?”

“No,” John said through gritted teeth. “My fucking leg. I don’t think I can…” 

James smiled at him, reaching up to caress John’s face. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain,” he said. “Though, if you’d like to keep going, I think I have an idea.” 

John pulled out of him, mindful not to cause either of them any more discomfort than necessary. “What might that be?” he asked, rolling off of James and onto his back. 

James sat up, smiling that too-many-teeth smile again. He reached around John for the oil, and began to spread it over John’s flagging cock. John had to admire the way his body responded to James’s touch, his cock filling from just the soft stroke of his fingers. 

“Well,” James began, “there’s no reason why you should have to do all the work.” With that maddeningly vague statement, James swung his leg over John’s hips, straddling his body and trapping John’s cock between them. John was, for perhaps the first time in his life, speechless.

“You can’t mean to –” he started.

“Oh, I do. Unless you don’t want me to?” James asked, lifting his hips so that he was hovering over John, their bodies not touching save for the press of James’s thighs against John’s hips. 

“Fuck no. I want it. I want you.” John said, voice hoarse. His hips rose restlessly, trying to reach James’s entrance, which he kept just out of John’s reach. John whimpered. He was begging, but he didn’t mind. To have _this,_ well, there were no limits to what he would do. 

James, belying his former reputation, took mercy on John, sinking slowly down onto his cock until he was fully seated on him. John reached up to grip James’s hips as he began to move. John was in awe. The world around him dimmed, until nothing but James – all thighs and freckles and quiet, whispered obscenities – existed. He may have felt immortal before, but nothing compared to the ecstasy of James McGraw Flint riding his cock into oblivion. John ground his hips against James’s, meeting each fall of his body with a thrust of his own. With one hand, he took James’s cock into his fist, and pumped as James fucked himself back onto John’s cock and into his hand. 

John’s body tensed as he approached orgasm. He wanted James to come first though, so he turned his head, needing a moment to pull back from the brink so he could see to James. His eyes drifted to the door, which, in his haste to see James under him, he had forgotten to close all the way. The door had swung further open, and, in the dim light of the hallway, John could see a shadowy outline. _Thomas_. He was standing there, watching James and John together. Watching James fuck himself on John, watching the way James’s head was thrown back in pleasure, and watching the way that John’s muscles tightened as he thrust up to meet James. 

Thomas, having seen John watching him, stepped into the doorway, just close enough so that the candlelight illuminated him. John locked eyes with him, unable to look away as Thomas brought his hands to his lips and sucked a long finger into his mouth. 

Almost involuntarily, John fucked faster into James. His hand tightened around James’s cock with rough tugs, and he grinned savagely as he heard James’s breath hitch. Still, he couldn’t stop staring at Thomas. When Thomas pulled his hand from his mouth and shoved it into his trousers, John was a goner. He came with a shout, deep and hot inside James. He turned, looking back at James, wondering in the sight of him, face unguarded in pleasure as he sought his own release.

James came after only a few more tugs, spurting white streaks across John’s belly. He collapsed across John’s chest as Thomas slipped from the doorway.

As the haze of his orgasm receded, John began to wonder what, in the ever-loving fuck, had just happened. Maybe, he told himself, it was just the heat of someone catching him in so intimate an act that turned him on so. After all, he had always liked an audience. 

But this wasn’t any person. This was _Thomas. James’s Thomas._ And John just didn’t know what to make of that. 

“Where are you?” James asked, rolling off of John and onto the bed. He reached for a cloth and began to wipe them clean. 

John didn’t know what to say. The truth, he decided, he might as well go for that. 

“Thomas was … watching us,” he said, trepidatiously.

“Ah,” James said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked.

“Only that you seemed distracted, for a moment,” James placated. “I don’t mind, sweetheart.” 

John shook his head, marveling at how he came to live with two men who didn’t seem to care whether he wanted to fuck one or the other. It was, unusual, to say the least. Then again, this was coming from the men who wanted to (1) pardon all the pirates, and (2) overtake the British Empire, so maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. 

“I don’t know what to say,” John began, “I didn’t think that I –”

“There’s no need to explain, John,” James said, “Thomas has that effect on people.” 

John kissed James then. There was simply nothing else he could do. James responded by tugging John into his side, and kissing his forehead. 

“I’m exhausted,” he said. “Let’s go to sleep.” 

***

Sometime in the night, John woke suddenly, startled by the sound of shouting.

“No!” he heard, “no, you can’t!” _Thomas_ , he thought, throwing off the covers. He glanced around wildly for his sword, before feeling a hand on his arm. 

“It’s all right,” James said. He, too, was naked and out of bed. He looked like he’d been halfway toward the door before John had even awoken. “Thomas has nightmares. I need to go to him.” 

John nodded, somberly. “Of course. Go.” 

James turned toward the door, made a move as if to leave. He stopped, seeming torn. 

“Do you want to…? I mean – I can understand if you don’t, but… I know he wouldn’t mind.”

John drew a blank. “What? Come sleep with you?”

James blushed. He looked toward the door once more, where, across the hallway Thomas’s shouts had turned into moans. He sounded terrified. In that moment, John made up his mind. There was nowhere he would rather be.

“Yes,” he said, grabbing his shirt and crutch. Together, he and James made their way across the hallway, with John hanging back as they entered the room James and Thomas shared. James bent down to Thomas, murmuring soft words and pressing soothing kisses along his forehead.

“It’s all right, love,” he said, “You’re safe here. I’ve got you.” 

Though he was still deeply asleep, Thomas responded to James’s words and settled immediately. James climbed into bed behind Thomas and pulled him in to his arms so Thomas’s back was flush against James’s chest. Only then did he look back at John, raising an eyebrow in what could only be interpreted as _“What are you waiting for?”_ John didn’t need to be told twice. He slid into bed behind James, resting his head on the pillow and curling himself into James’s back. He kissed the sun-spots on James’s shoulder blades before closing his eyes. 

“Goodnight, James,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, my love,” came the reply. 

***

The sun beat down on them as John watched James and Thomas spar on the grassy hill. It had been nearly two months since he’d first arrived at the lighthouse, and sometimes, John still had to take a deep breath and assure himself this was actually real. But, as unlikely as it seemed, it was. 

“Use your height to throw me off balance,” James instructed Thomas. “Go in low and wrap your arms around my waist, then stand up and get me off my feet. You’ll have me nearly defenseless.” He demonstrated.

John watched as Thomas tried to follow James’s instructions. He crouched low, legs spread wide apart, and went straight for James’s waist. He’d taken a moment too long – by the way he’d crouched down, any attacker would’ve read his intention. Thomas went in to attempt the maneuver, but it was too late; James simply stepped aside, leaving Thomas grasping at nothing but air. 

“Fuck,” Thomas muttered, to himself. He often became frustrated when he wasn’t immediately able to master a technique. John remembered the feeling.

John had had enough of watching. He wanted to fight too, to feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. Here, in the bright light of the summer sun, John could admit he enjoyed fighting. Not the kind of fighting they did Back Then, but fighting like this. Fighting which could, at any moment, turn into laughter or kissing, and there was always the hope of something sweet in the kitchen when they returned. Oh yes, he liked this kind of fighting quite a bit. 

“This isn’t a gentleman’s boxing match, Thomas,” he said, moving over to where they stood. “Whoever comes here, they mean to do you real harm. You can’t give them any indication of what you’re going to do.”

Thomas straightened, shaking out his limbs. Sweat beaded across his forehead, dripped under the open neck of his shirt. Silver wondered what he would taste like. 

“Easy for you to say,” Thomas said, mouth quirking, whether from mirth or pain, John couldn’t tell. “No one expects you to be as good of a fighter as you are.” 

John smiled, a fierce, beastly thing. Thomas was right – he’d always been underestimated, even before he’d lost his leg. It had saved his life more than once. 

“Let me have a go.” 

James stepped back to allow John to approach Thomas. His eyes sparkled with curiosity; for all the time they’d spent together in the last few months, working, fighting, and sleeping side-by-side, James was usually in the middle. It often felt as if they needed him to act as a barrier, as if they could easily pour their love into him, but could not bridge the gap to each other. 

John let his gaze wander over Thomas as he deliberately sized him up. Quick as lightening, he moved into Thomas’s space, ducking as Thomas swung out reflexively. Before Thomas could pull his arm back in, John hit him with a light tap of his crutch to Thomas’s knees, followed by a light punch to the gut and another to the head. The touches were feather-light, but effective. Not only had John attacked with speed, but his ability to stop a hit before it seriously injured Thomas showed his masterful control. They broke apart, both panting slightly.

“Don’t let him get into your space,” James instructed Thomas. “You’re bigger, so you can hit him from further away. If he’s in your space, he can control how hard you hit him. At that point, you need to get him to the ground. If you can’t pick him up the way I showed you, wait until he gets a hold of you and drop to the ground.” 

They went again. Thomas, to his credit, was a fast learner and a good sport. Without waiting for John to make the first move, he struck out with his foot against John’s crutch. It was a good move; if John had been a little less experienced, or had been, say, distracted by the brightness of Thomas’s smile in the sunlight, he surely would’ve gone down. Instead, he merely adjusted and readied himself for another blow. When it came, from Thomas’s left fist, John was ready. He pulled out of Thomas’s reach before bending down and rushing into Thomas’s body. As instructed, Thomas went limp, dragging John down with him.

The fall was anything but graceful, the landing anything but soft. Before John had time to recover, Thomas was rolling them over so John’s back was pressed into the grass and rocks beneath him. Thomas’s arms pushed down on John’s shoulders, and he straddled John’s good leg with his own. John blinked up at him, momentarily caught off guard. Thomas was quicker than John had given him credit for. Either that, or he was distracted after all. _Not again_ , John thought briefly, closing his own eyes as the memories rushed back to him. 

It took John a moment to recover, at which point he noticed that Thomas was still on top of him, his thigh pressed nearly against John’s hardening cock. Opening his eyes, John looked up to find Thomas’s face very close to his, pupils blown wide in the sunlight. His tongue darted out, nearly close enough to touch John’s lips, disappearing back inside his mouth just as John leaned up to chase it. _We should move_ , John thought. Yet, there they stayed, eyes locked on one another. 

“James,” John called out, voice airier than it really ought to be. “James, I think your husband is trying to seduce me.” 

Thomas huffed a laugh, a soft breath against John’s lips. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed his thigh into the juncture of John’s legs, leaning down so their bodies pressed together. “Is it working?” he murmured. 

John shivered at the contact, and again at its loss as Thomas rolled off of him. He pushed up onto his elbows, watching as Thomas straightened his shirt and pants and moved toward James. Silently, the two readied for another round of sparring.

He needed time to think. Trying not to disturb the others, John stood and made his way around the lighthouse to the small pond at the base of the hill. He knew that neither James nor Thomas would follow him – each was known to retreat into solitude when their demons stopped whispering and screamed instead. They would be there, waiting for him, when he was ready to return. 

In his lifetime, John had loved very few people. His mother, who was ripped from him before he could memorize the sound of her voice. Madi, who loved him, but couldn’t forgive him. James, who had made him. Who had saved him from himself. 

And now, alone in the shadow of the lighthouse, John could add another name to the list. Thomas, who brought the sunlight with his smile. Who, perhaps more than anyone, had reason to be bitter and angry, but every day made the choice not to be. Who chose to keep fighting even now, long after he and James had laid down their swords.

It wasn’t the realization that he loved Thomas that so shocked him. That part seemed almost inevitable. No, it was the hope bubbling in John’s chest – hope that, when he walked back into the house, he’d be welcomed by not one set of caressing hands, but two. It had been a very long time since he’d felt hopeful.

Ignoring the pang of sadness that shot through him as he remembered the feel of Madi’s hands against him, John turned, heading back to the lighthouse. He had a confession to make. 

***

John heard them as soon as he entered the house. Since the night that Thomas had first watched him with James, they had, by unspoken agreement, stopped closing the bedroom doors. But still, one always stayed back, watching from the shadows. 

Now, it seemed, all that was about to change. John stepped quietly into the kitchen, eyes widening at the sight before him. James was leaning back against the table, shirt rucked up to his nipples, trousers open. One hand clenched the edge of the table with white knuckles; the other was fisted tightly into Thomas’s hair as Thomas sucked James off. Fuck if they weren’t the most gorgeous sight John had ever seen. 

He stood there for a moment, paralyzed by the streak of lust he felt in his belly, nearly knocking his leg out from under him.

He must have let out a breath, because at that moment, James’s eyes snapped open and he locked his gaze onto John’s. Then, he spoke. 

“Oh, that’s it baby, yes. You’re so good at this love, take me deeper. You can take all of me, can’t you?”

Almost involuntarily, John’s eyes dropped to Thomas as he opened even wider for James. He could feel the heat of James’s eyes still on him as the blood rushed to his cock. He watched, helpless to his own desire, as James slowly fucked into Thomas’s mouth.

“You are so beautiful like this, my love,” he said to Thomas, voice a purr. Then he looked up at John. 

“Come here,” he commanded. 

John glanced at Thomas, hesitant. He never stopped moving against James. With the hand not reaching behind James, he stretched blindly behind him for John. John was helpless against them both, pulling him in as surely as the moon pulls the tides. He moved to James, ran his hands up and down James’s arms. James, eyes nearly engulfed by black, turned his head to John and kissed him hungrily. The kiss was desperate, all clashing teeth and seeking tongues. John moaned, tracing his hands down James’s hard chest and tugging on the soft hairs there. 

He continued to kiss and touch James as he came undone under Thomas’s ministrations. He held him through his orgasm, kissing him gently on his lips, his neck, his exposed shoulders. He whispered words of praise and longing as James wrapped his arms around John’s slim waist. When Thomas rose and placed a firm kiss to James’s mouth, he wrapped his arm around him too. The three of them stayed there, foreheads touching together, breathing in the scent of one another.

John was the first to pull away. Despite what they’d just shared, John still hadn’t touched Thomas. Still hadn’t told him what he came inside to say. Shifting out of their embrace, he turned more fully towards Thomas. He leaned toward Thomas, who rose to meet his gaze. Ever so slowly, he brought his hand up to caress Thomas’s face, running the pad of his thumb over Thomas’s lip. He sucked in a breath when Thomas’s tongue darted out and licked the tip of his finger lightly. Their eyes still locked on one another, John whispered the words he’d kept inside. 

“I love you,” he said. 

Thomas surged up against him, pressing his lips onto John’s. He kissed differently than James – lips plusher, tongue licking into John’s mouth with bold strokes. John could taste James on his tongue and it made his insides quiver with desire. He felt James move behind him, hands stroking down his back, slipping underneath the fabric of his shirt. Thomas wound a hand in his hair, used the other to pull him closer as James pressed onto John from behind. He broke the kiss, pulling away to stare at John.

“I love you too,” he said, smiling. “I’m so glad you came here.”

John swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Me too,” he said. 

Together, the three made their way up to James and Thomas’s bedroom. Unhurried, they stripped each other bare. Held each other close. Whispered loving words, promises of tomorrow. 

The next morning, sated from a night of love-making and lying entwined as the sun streamed through the bedroom window, John told them his final revelation. 

“I’m ready,” he said.

“For what?” murmured Thomas from where he lay, head resting against James’s thigh, tracing lazy patterns onto John’s skin. He hadn’t been able to stop touching him all night; John hoped he never did. 

“To help you, to write alongside you. I can’t sit by anymore, I want to fight too.” 

Thomas and James both stared at him, mouths agape. If he hadn’t been so anxious by his own intentions, he would’ve laughed at then twin looks of shock on their face. 

“John,” Thomas said, voice careful, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” John said, simply. “Just, promise me, if it becomes too dangerous, if it becomes likely that we’ll get found out – we’ll stop.” He tried to hide the slight waver in his voice. He didn’t think he did a good job.

Thomas grasped one of John’s hands, James the other. 

“We promise,” they said. 

“I love you both,” John said, smiling when they echoed his words. This could work, he thought. He could love them and accept being loved by them. He could redeem himself in their eyes and in his own. He was here, and that was more than he’d had any right to hope for. But hope was a funny thing; once he started hoping, he didn’t know how to stop. 

***

_My Dearest Madi,_

_You once reminded me that too much sanity may be madness. At the time, I was so wrapped up in the madness of my own making that I rather missed your meaning. Things are different now. I’m older (much older than I’ve any right to be, by all accounts) and, hopefully, wiser. And I simply cannot allow another day to pass without writing to you._

_I have spent the last few years learning from my mistakes, of which there have been too many to count. It took me three years (and a meddlesome husband) to write to John, and I regret each moment I wasted. I will not do the same with you._

_He’s here, Madi. He delivered me to Savannah, to Thomas, as he said he did. And, sometime later, he found me, drawn across oceans by the beacon of my forgiveness. He has found a home here, as long as he allows himself to have it. But the memory of you still keeps him awake at night._

_I will not ask you to forgive him. That is not my duty, nor my intention. We have made peace, he and I, and each day I’m thankful for it. What he did was selfish, but I cannot bring myself to mind. The injury done to you, I know, is different in kind from my own. Our wars may have been born of different causes, but his goal was the same for each: to see us alive to the end. In that, as in all things he sets his mind to, he has succeeded._

_All things, except one. He loves you, my dear. He always has, and – though he’s long given up hope for your forgiveness – I believe he always will. Love like what you two share, like what I share with both Thomas and with him, it never fades. He loves you, he lost you, and he’s a different man for it. A better man._

_In truth, I don’t know why I’ve written to you. I don’t know what these words from an old ghost will mean to you, if they should even reach you. Perhaps you’ll throw this letter into the ocean – it may well be where it belongs. Perhaps I want you to know that we haven’t stopped fighting, we’re just doing it differently now. Perhaps I only wish for you to know that, in those final moments, he told you the truth. Perhaps I merely miss the woman who I was privileged to call my friend._

_Here, I find myself with only two things left to say. First, we’re in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, should you ever like to find us. And second, no matter what happens, know that I wish you well._

_Goodbye Madi._

_Most Sincerely,  
James McGraw_

_P.S. Thomas longs to meet you. I think you two will have a lot to talk about._

***

One afternoon, exactly one year, two months, thirteen days, and fifty minutes after James sent the letter, he, Thomas, and John were sitting in the parlor, drinking tea.

There was a knock on their door.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! This is the end of the plot for TLK, but there is a very smutty epilogue still to come! 
> 
> Kudos and comments soothe my tortured writer's soul.


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